A Myna bird comes marching in; it'll soon rule the roost. It seldom fails to have its way anyplace it's introduced. The goggle shapes around its eyes make its stare more intense, but compare it to a raven; you'll see it's pure pretense. Like kudzu and cockroaches, they can't help but run amok. Should they come to your neighborhood - well, that's just your luck.
His eyes take in the dancing flame until his mind is flame. He anticipates its flutter, its flareups, just the same. There's nothing in his mind or eye that is not set ablaze. He knows not whether it's been like this for hours, weeks, or days. Others think it will devour him, leaving a pile of ash, taking him from this world at once, in one big, blinding flash.
I've thought about the ideal horn. Should it be straight or curved? Or by a spectacular rack would one be better served? Maybe one would be better off being a unicorn. With just way too many options, I confess I am torn. A huge rack would most certainly wreak hell upon the spine, but a unicorn must get foes to form a single line. I once saw a wandering oryx; its horns were a stumper. They seemed optimized to stabbing off course para-jumpers.
A mantis landed on the rail, and it put up its dukes as one might expect of madmen or drunken Irish kooks. Why would one seek out a fair fight with someone much bigger, I shook my head and started to engage in a snigger. But then it did occur to me that he couldn't stand elsewise. So, I tried to gauge his intent, and looked him in the eyes... and he stomped me in my nether bits - much to my surprise.
Along the road to Pangong Tso, I spied an odd marmot. 'Twas rotund of both gut and jowl, and had a beefy butt. It seems Himalaya's boondocks has quite a junk food glut. The rodent snacked on a cracker of the cheesiest kind. I'd have guessed one could search near-n-far and no Cheez-it would one find. Not in this remote borderland where few maintain a home. The point is, for a cheesy-cracker you'll have not far to roam.
Apologies Mister Lizard, didn't mean to step on you. But you kind of blend with the rock. It's not like in the zoo; where there's a sign and pointing kids and barriers, to boot. When one looks just like one's backdrop, it behooves one to scoot. Sorry again about your tail. I'm sure it will grow back. Call it a teachable moment, & get an orange knapsack!
The millipede was a foot long, but, some might ask, whose foot? Its own feet being quite petite might suggest Lilliput. But though it wasn't a footlong foot, it was long for a bug, a worm, a beetle, a wood mouse, a spider, or a slug. A snake that long would be a babe, or, at least, quite stunted. So, now I find my amazement being a bit blunted.
The field is neat; the stalks are baled; the grain sits in baskets to be carried back home to dry on thin sheets of plastic. The chaff will be cracked from the grain so that it can be ground into flour, and baked into bread that I'll eat sans a sound as I enjoy the view.
The crab, it had one tiny claw; it couldn't be its first. What kind of species harvests limbs? Oh, they must be the worst.
The stone man flows; the snake creeps down - arm becoming viper. It's slow, but silently it flows, stealthy as a sniper. And though he's stone, I feel him go via sympathetic flow. Mirror neurons fire in my brain, taking me high to low... or so it feels.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 